


The Butler's Orders

by navaan



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Batfamily Feels, Cuddling & Snuggling, Ficlet, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-New 52
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 22:41:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3335453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan/pseuds/navaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick wakes up after being hurt during a fight. Someone needs to take care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Butler's Orders

**Author's Note:**

> You can also read and comment on livejournal [here](http://navaan.livejournal.com/182041.html).

He came to, slowly, his eyes dropping closed again at first as soon as he'd opened them. There hadn't been anything to see but darkness anyway and his head hurt. It was hard to stay awake, like he was caught in a haze. The pillow his head was resting on was soft and he was warm and comfortable, but something heavy and hard was pressing onto his chest and stomach, holding him down.

A spike of adrenaline went through his body. He tried to blink his eyes open, turn to his side, move his head to see what it was that was keeping him in place, but fell back exhausted. All his senses were telling him that there was no need to panic, but he was beginning to think that he was feeling too calm and comfortable, that very likely he had been drugged. But something about the clean smell of the bedding was familiar and comforting.

“Go back to sleep, Dick,” a muffled voice told him and he relaxed instantly.

With effort he opened his eyes again, just a little, peaking into the darkness. He wasn't home in the loft he owned in Bludhaven. He was in his old room in Gotham, where nothing had changed since he'd left. To his right he could even vaguely make out the shapes of the Superman poster he'd put up there years ago. But focusing on anything was a strain. “Tim?” he asked, because it was too much effort to look down and confirm his suspicion.

“Yes, go back to sleep, Dick,” Tim told him more sternly. He moved a little, half curled up above the blanket and half sprawling across Dick's own body, holding him down.

“I can't move,” Dick said fuzzily. Something was wrapped about his arm, but he couldn't get it up to see, because it was pinned to his side beneath the blanket. His limbs were heavy.

“I know,” Tim confirmed.

Dick had to try hard to concentrate and _think_ through the fog of the headache that was growing worse when he kept his eyes open. “I can't move because you're on top of me,” he explained, because apparently it needed pointing out.

“Yes,” Tim told him and moved a bit to his side to watch him in the darkness. “Alfred's orders.”

He took a moment to contemplate that. But to be sure he asked: “I'm hurt and he wants you to lie on top of me?”

Tim propped himself up with one arm to get a better look at him. “You were knocked down pretty badly. Your arm is wrapped up. It's only a flesh wound, and Alfred says it's not as bad as it looked at first glance... But you fell from a bridge. It was a bit of a drop. And you were freezing cold when we finally managed to fish you out. You were pretty out of it.”

Tim let the information sink in. Dick barely remembered catching a girl falling, his arm being slashed by Ivy's deadly vines. Someone laughing. “She poisoned me,” he realized.

“A bit,” Tim said as if it was nothing – which it probably was, considering. 

“Alfred doesn't trust me to stay in bed?”

“Yup,” Tim said and sounded all too happy about it. “In this household you're not know as the person who deals well with bed rest.”

“Who is known for that then? Can't be Bruce. He's a pain.”

Tim chuckled. Dick felt it, the motion of Tim's frame against his body, couldn't _see_ it because his eyes had shut again without him realizing it. “No, he doesn't deal well with downtime either. But you're the one who is hurt and I like keeping you in bed, so we all win. So, rest now. Sleep it off. I'll keep watch.”

“Hmm,” Dick said, feeling tired and warm and safe. “There is usually more moving though. When you keep me in bed, that is.”

“That's when I win-win.” Tim leaned over to press a soft kiss against his lips. “Just go back to sleep, Dick. I'll wake you up in a few hours to see how you're doing anyway. If you're feeling better there will be a lot of moving later. Promise.”

“Hmm,” he hummed softly, already halfway back to sleep. Somewhere in the back of his mind it registered that Alfred had probably administered an antidote and put him on medication, that this was why he was feeling like he was wrapped in cotton. But it didn't matter.

Tim was right here. And he'd still be here when he woke up again. Alfred really knew how to keep them all in line.

He would need to thank him for that in the morning.

Or whenever Tim decided that he was ready to get out of bed.


End file.
